Tempestas
by timeywimeyspaceywacey
Summary: After failing to defeat Alduin, the Dragonborn receives a second chance from the Divines to make things right and slay the World-Eater in a new, reborn reality. The responsibility falls to Indis Mero, once again, to gather the Blades, destroy the rekindled Dragon Cult, and find a way to slay Akatosh's first-born once and for all.


_**tempestas: latin for storm, tempest, bad weather**_

* * *

**CHAPTER 1**

It had been a good night, and even though she trudged back into Riftweald with eyelids heavy and worn-down bones, Indis couldn't help but feel immensely satisfied with herself.

She dropped her satchel down on the floor, and out tumbled silverware, loose gems, and gorgeous, glimmering necklaces and rings, all spilling out in a jumble. She knelt down; carelessly shoving the gems and jewels back inside, smiling when the gold and silver caught in the early morning light. They'd fetch a decent price, and she could finally get around to replacing all of the broken chests in the practice room, but at that particular moment, breakfast and sleep were all that were on her mind. Having a stern word with Thrynn about kicking the practice chests to Oblivion every time he broke a lockpick could wait. She kicked off her boots and pushed them to the side with one foot, continuing on her way to the kitchen.

Snatching an apple off the counter, she slid into a chair at the table, taking a large bite out of the fruit in her hand. She chewed slowly, savoring the way the crisp, bitter fruit tasted on her tongue and propped her elbows up on the hard wood of the table. The house was deafeningly quiet, felt far too empty and large, and it had been that way for months. She was having trouble adjusting to the wide, painfully silent space around her. Pushing the thoughts out of her mind, she turned her attention to the pile of unopened messages that she had been ignoring for the past two weeks, sweeping them towards her with one arm.

Indis sighed, picking up letter after letter, leafing through the wrinkled and worn slips of paper, tossing each one aside after a brief inspection. She paused, running the pad of one thumb over the brittle wax seal of the letter that was currently resting in her hand, before throwing it down to join the others. It was yet another letter from Balgruuf, no doubt urging her to make the trek up to High Hrothgar, or to at least visit him in Whiterun for even _more_ counsel. She had ignored the letters he sent to Lakeview, and she would continue to snub the letters that he sent to Riftweald. The Guild had been her focus for the past seven months, and it would stay that way for a while. She flicked through the rest of the stack, grimacing when she came across more invitations from Siddgeir for intimate dinners, grinning when she reached more letters from Serana. With a smile that continued to spread across her face, she set the letters from Serana aside. After breakfast and a nap, she'd respond to her friend. As she shoved them away, the folded piece of parchment that had been resting at the bottom of the stack, brushed aside for months on end, caught her attention just as it did every time.

Reaching out, her slim fingers traced the folds in the paper, hovering over her name written across the front. She knew what was inside, she had read it dozens of times before, she could even recite the words from memory, and she found herself unfolding it for what must have been the hundredth time to read its contents again. There was always one word, written with a flourish, which her eye was always drawn to.

_Divorce._

The arching, looping lines of his signature swept across the bottom of the page, and seeing it brought back months-old feelings of rage and frustration to the surface. It was getting harder for her to remember his face. When she closed her eyes and wracked her brain, sometimes she could recall long, grey ears that sloped upwards into sharp points, salt and pepper stubble lining a strong jawline, and burning red eyes, but as time marched on, those became fuzzy and blurred. The memories that had once been pleasant and joyful were now tainted with anger and bitterness. She knew that all she needed to do was sign it and return it to Maramal at the Temple, and it'd be done, but still, despite the task's simplicity, she found herself avoiding it. Indis threw it aside, choosing to ignore it yet again. Turning away from the table, she pressed her fingers to her temples and rubbed away furiously and closed her eyes, as though the simple action would erase all memory of the letter, of him, from her memory.

Trudging away from the cluttered table, she headed towards her bedroom, heaving a sigh of relief when she saw the large, welcoming bed. The bright rays of sun that filtered into the window stretched across the fluffy blankets, bathing them in light the color of molten gold, and she tumbled forward into the enticing, downy heaps of fabric, not even bothering to remove her Guild armor. She pulled the quilts around her small body, forming a warm, taut cocoon. It was time for blessed, beautiful sleep. _Finally_.

She was seconds away from dozing off when the sound of someone pounding on her door jerked her out of her pleasant daze. Throwing off the blankets, she flung herself out of bed and stormed to her back door. Flinging the door open, she gave a loud groan when she saw that Thrynn was the source of the obnoxious hammering.

"What do you want? I'm tired. I don't want to fuck right now."

He frowned and folded his arms over his chest, giving a loud snort. "Why d'you think that every time I'm here it's to fuck you?"

Indis sighed, motioning for him to come inside. "It's because that's the only thing you have _ever_ come here for. Now, what do you want?"

"There's somethin' you ought to see right now. It's important."

"You need to tell me more than that. That's the exact same thing you said when you drew nipples on the statue of Nocturnal that's down there. I'm not running down there to look at a cock you've drawn on her, Thrynn."

She turned on her heel to leave, but Thrynn's strong grip around her arm stopped her. "It ain't that. Just come there, and well… it's about Mercer."

Her eyes widened, and she froze. "What? Why didn't you say anything? Thrynn! What's going on with Mercer? Why didn't you tell me right away?"

He tugged her closer, his grip slackening so that he could slide one hand up underneath her umber cuirass. "Maybe I was hoping to get a little somethin' first."

"Oh, fuck off," she grumbled, swatting him away. She knelt down, snatching her boots off the floor, struggling to maintain her balance as she hopped and swayed on one foot, tugging them on. "You've got no sense of tact or timing, you know that right?"

He shrugged, hands falling away from his belt buckle. "Suit yourself. I can wait."

"Fine, later," she sighed, throwing the door open again. Stepping out into the brisk air, she unconsciously shivered, watching as the foggy tendrils of her breath swirled and unfurled in front of her face. "Let's go."

* * *

Huddled in a quiet, hushed mass around her desk was the Guild, and as she and Thrynn approached, they turned to face them. Brynjolf waved her over, the gesture frantic and urgent. The small crowd parted, and she found herself staring at a small note lying smack dab in the middle of the desk, pinned to the wood with a sleek dagger.

She wrapped her fingers around the hilt, glancing down at the slip of parchment. Scrawled across it, in a familiar neat, jagged script that nearly made her heart stop was her name. Five thin, blocky letters that made her eyes grow wide, suck in air sharply through gritted teeth, and flex her quaking fingers. Yanking hard, she pulled the weapon out and wriggled it to shake the note loose before passing the weapon off to Karliah. She retrieved it from the position on the desk it had fluttered down to, and after flipping it open, she was greeted with one word.

"Well," she began, watching as her fellow Guild members leaned in, watching with bated breath. "It looks like we're going to have to make a trip to High Rock. Daggerfall, if you want to get specific."

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_A/N: Ah, here it is! The first chapter of the rewrite. I hope you're enjoying things so far. At the end of In the Sun, Mercer was still out there, ready to wreak havoc and make more messes for the Guild, and Indis had just made the unpleasant discovery that she was Dragonborn. Looks like that crotchety Breton thief gave her the perfect excuse to avoid responsibility, eh? _

_I would like to say a special thanks to Kira Mackey, SkyrimJunkie, and Child of Sithis for helping me out on this story so much. These three ladies are super awesome and rad, and I can't even begin to express my appreciation for them. Child of Sithis gets cookies and a high-five for going through and giving me some nitpicky criticism as my beta to help make this thing even better!_

_Well, anyway, thank you so much for reading this and bearing with me throughout this process. You're all wonderful! :3_

_Also, if you're a fan of Dragon Age, I'm considering writing about my Warden. There's a poll on my profile page where you can vote to show your interest (or disinterest!)._


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